


Finders Keepers

by Tournesol



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Dogs, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tournesol/pseuds/Tournesol
Summary: Nixon comes home to find a new addition to the Winters-Nixon household.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little ficlet I wrote months ago as a cheer me up piece for [gingereskimoo](http://gingereskimoo.tumblr.com/) and decided to post after a post by [trailsofpaper](http://trailsofpaper.tumblr.com/) about Nixon and dogs.
> 
> Based on the fictional characters from the show, no disrespect meant to the real guys.

Something catches Nixon’s attention as he makes his way inside the house he shares with Winters. He finds himself reaching for his hip, an old instinct he hasn’t been able to shake. Keys in hand and heart beating faster, he goes to the kitchen where the sound of broken glass seems to be coming from. 

“Shit!” he can hear Dick say. 

It would be wrong to say Dick never swears. He does sometimes, in unguarded moments when they don’t have company.

When he comes into view two heads turn almost comically in his direction. Now, the presence of Dick when he comes home he’s used to. Not so much to that of a great dane, which seems to have been the cause of the noise and glass shards peppering the kitchen floor. 

“I can explain,” says Dick, hands placed in the air placatingly. 

Nix can’t help but feel a wave of fondness overshadowing all the small contrarieties of the day at the sight of that impossible man in front of him.   
A helpless Winters is a rare sight, and Nixon intends to enjoy this while it lasts, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow and fights a smile as he sees a visibly flustered Winters sporting a wrinkled shirt with the sleeves rolled up, as if he’d been tackling a cumbersome task. 

He looks pointedly at the shaggy dog, agitated and seemingly unaware of his great size. 

“Harry found him by the side of the road, he couldn’t take him home because of the baby so I volunteered to take him, I was planning on taking him to the vet tomorrow and see if someone had claimed him, I hope you don’t mind, it was a bit of an emergency…”

And bless Winters because his face shows genuine apology as he waits for Nixon’s reaction, as if Nixon would ever be upset because of a dog. 

In answer, Nixon crouches down and shows his hands placatingly to the dog, letting him come to him on his own terms.   
Forgetting his size, the great dane makes his way enthusiastically towards Nixon and promptly starts to lick his hands, and then his face, bumping into Nixon and pushing him until he falls flat on his ass, laughing. 

The dog barks happily and sits on Nixon’s outstretched legs. Finders keepers. He keeps looking between Winters and Nixon, who’s happy to scratch him behind his ears. There’s no hostility in his eyes, a faint weariness that means he’ll most likely not be claimed. But most of all they reflect sheer happiness, as if he wanted to look at Winters and Nixon at once and not knowing who to choose. 

Winters can’t help but smile at Nixon sitting on the floor of their kitchen with a lap full of great dane, forgetful of its massive size.   
Nixon sports an elated smile which Winters can’t help but realize he hasn’t seen often, a sort of boyish smile, untainted by the troubles of adulthood. The dog is threatening to send him toppling further from bumping his head against Nix’s chest, seeking contact, and Winters decides to intervene. 

“Come on Ham, be a good boy,” he says, trying to hold back the dog carefully, giving a chance for Nixon to upright himself. 

Abandoning all hope of quiet, Winters sits back next to Nix, bumping their shoulders as he does so, relishing the contact after a day spent apart. 

“Ham?” asks Nixon, curiosity in his tone.

“Yeah,” starts Winters, as if embarrassed. “Short for Hamlet.”

Nixon laughs at that. “Hamlet, prince of Denmark, uh?”

“Yeah well, I was kind of put on the spot.”

“I like it,” says Nix, and he’s fixing Winters with one of those intense stares, those entrancing stares that Winters can’t look away from, the looks that Winters can’t quite believe he’s lucky enough to have directed on him.

“Does that mean we get to keep him then?” asks Nixon, a note of hope coloring the question, not the reaction he expected at having their house invaded unexpectedly by a mountain of a dog.

“We’ll have to see if someone claims him first but…”

And Nixon smiles because he knows they’ve both lost the fight because it’s not so much that the dog will be claimed but it’s that the dog claimed them. Nixon can hear it in Winters’ tone, that the dog has already wormed his way into Winters’ heart same as Nixon’s just now. 

Ham licks Winters’ cheek and he can’t help the laugh bubbling to the surface and Nixon has to kiss him right there, right now, feeling his chest burst with uncontainable happiness. 

“Finders keepers,” says Nixon.


End file.
